We Come to this place
by Lady Angel
Summary: Willow and Giles get married in a Judeo-pagan-Anglican ceremony


Title: We come to this place  
  
Author: Angel the Part-time Succubus (Angelia Sparrow)  
  
Email: valarltd@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG-13, for erotic poetry  
  
Summary: Willow and Giles get married in a Judeo-pagan-Anglican ceremony  
  
Spoilers: Season 4 (Angel and Cordelia in LA, Buffy at UC Sunnydale)  
  
Disclaimer: These are not my characters. They belong to Joss Whedon,  
Mutant Enemy and WB.  
I receive no monetary gain for these stories.  
  
Distribution: Any and all. You want it, you got it.  
  
Feedback: Please yes. I want opinions, etc.  
  
Author's note: Most of the wedding text is Song of Solomon. The love  
speech is 1 Corinthians  
13. The bit about seasons turning comes from a Lughnasadh ritual for the  
solitary practitioner  
that I found on the net. Some of the translation is a bit free. I was  
working from a King James  
Bible and wanted a little less formality for the preacher.  
  
Dedication: For my husband of ten years, Richard. For my lycanthrope,  
Charles, who pointed  
me to the proper pagan sites. And always for Elaine Sweet.  
  
***  
We come to this place  
c 1999 Angelia Sparrow  
***  
  
"Xander, stop fidgeting with your bow tie or you're going to have to retie  
it."  
  
"Right, Miss Shredding-her-Ribbons-until-they-fray."  
  
Buffy and Xander sat down on the wooden bench at the park. The rest of the  
guests were  
already in the grove, and they were waiting for the wedding couple. Buffy  
was uncomfortable in  
the grass-green dress, and had toyed with the ribbons on her floral crown  
until they were a little  
tattered. But no one would notice in the torchlight. The sun was setting.  
  
Even though this was Sunnydale, the wedding was outdoors after dark.  
Enough wards were in  
place that anything bigger than a rabbit would get electrified for  
approaching the grove. Buffy,  
Cordelia and Xander had spent the day hanging things from the tree  
branches. Apples and nuts  
for fertility. Small bags of chocolate coins for prosperity. Shiny  
trinkets and baubles dangled  
from ribbons, signifying material wealth. Giles explained the tradition  
was Norse, and his  
family had descended from some Viking settlers of the Danelaw.  
  
They heard Wesley start the tape player. Irish harp music drifted through  
the park, setting the  
mood. Deciding on an officiant had been the hardest part, and had ended  
with the official  
wedding being earlier that day at the courthouse.  
  
Ira Rosenburg had come very near sitting shiva for his daughter, but Sheila  
had pointed out that  
a daughter married to a goy was better than an unmarried daughter. He had  
forgiven her, but his  
face was a set stone as she had signed on the line. He had also nearly  
refused to attend the  
ceremony this evening, but Sheila had nudged him into it. He wore his  
yarmulke and t'fellin,  
the fringe of his prayer shawl looking almost as tatty as Buffy's ribbons.  
  
This ceremony was the religious one, the one that had caused Willow and  
Giles so much trouble.  
They had finally compromised on the local Unitarian minister, since neither  
Rabbi Goldstein nor  
Vicar Stevens would perform the mixed marriage, especially with all the  
modifications.  
  
The Irish harp gave way to "Hava Negilah" and Buffy and Xander made their  
entrance. She  
strolled nonchalantly, but Xander alone knew her nervousness. His arm  
would be badly bruised  
tomorrow. They waited at the altar for the bridal couple.  
  
The Masterpiece Theater theme began on the tape, and Giles appeared. He  
stopped at the  
torches near the edge of the grove, and announced in a ringing voice, "I  
have come to this  
place." The crowd, not knowing exactly what to expect, turned and looked  
at him. He had  
discarded the tweed and wore all green with a crown of oak and hawthorne.  
  
"He looks like Robin Hood," Cordelia whispered to Angel. He shushed her.  
  
"I have come. Where is my beloved?" Giles strode into the grove,  
pretending to search among  
the crowd. "I have come to this place." He announced a third time, and  
Xander left his position  
by the altar, hearing his cue.  
  
"Await her with me, my friend, for she will come." The two men clapsed  
hands, and Giles  
followed Xander back to the altar.  
  
When they took their places, Buffy came to both of them and kissed their  
cheeks. "I shall find  
your beloved, my friend." She left her place at the altar and went out the  
opposite side of the  
grove. The guests heard the sounds of an argument, and finally Buffy's  
voice rang clear. "I  
summon you to the place of marriage."  
  
She returned, leading an apparently reluctant Willow by the hand. The  
bride was radiant and the  
reluctance was all for show. Her dress was more emerald than hunter, and  
set off her fiery hair  
to the best advantage. She wore a crown of her namesake, trimmed with  
rosemary and autumn  
flowers. Wheat for fertility was braided in as well, and rust ribbons  
cascaded down the back.  
  
She walked about halfway down the aisle, and stopped, pulling back on  
Buffy's hand. "I  
summon you to the place of marriage, Willow Miriam Rosenburg, in the names  
of Eloihim, and  
Adonai."  
  
Willow reached the altar, and made as if to flee. Giles spoke again.  
"Where is thy beloved, O  
thou fairest among women?"  
  
She seemed to see him for the first time, and went to stand beside him. "I  
am my beloved's and  
he is mine."  
  
Reverend Jones looked over the crowd, and announced in a voice that carried  
even to the back  
where the Rosenburgs stood, Ira still looking uncomfortable and ready to  
bolt, "We come to this  
place, tonight August first, by some called Lammas, others Lughnasadh, to  
witness the joining of  
this couple in holy matrimony. What will be is. What was will be. The  
Wheel of the Year  
forever turns. Dark to light, light to dark, each season passes with  
lessons learned. We plant  
with love, tend with respect, and at Harvest time our yields reflect The  
bounty of our Lord, King  
of the Universe. Now upon our humble altar, gifts we offer the One. As  
each day passes, shorter  
than the last, may we each be reminded of the seasons that have passed. Of  
friends long gone, of  
childhood's folly. May the joy of youth and the wisdom of age lie upon the  
hearts of these two  
as they wed. Rupert William Giles, do you take this woman to be your  
wife? To have and to  
hold, to love and to cherish, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in  
health, until death do you  
part?"  
  
Giles answered, "I do. I, Rupert Giles, take you, Willow Rosenburg to be  
my wife. To love and  
cherish until death takes me or the world ends."  
  
"And you, Willow Miriam Rosenburg, do you take this man to be your  
husband? To have and to  
hold, to love and to honor, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in  
health, until death do you  
part?"  
  
Willow answered, "I do. I, Willow Rosenburg, take you, Rupert Giles to be  
my husband. To  
love and honor, until death takes me or the world ends."  
  
"The rings, please?" Xander produced a ring from his inner pocket, and  
Buffy from around her  
finger. In rehearsal, Xander had actually gotten Willow's ring stuck on  
his pinky, and that had  
led to riotous jokes about him having to marry Giles, and the Army's "don't  
ask-don't tell"  
policy. They had decided the inner breast pocket was much safer.  
Fortunately, Buffy's slim  
fingers were small enough that no like mishap occurred.  
  
"The rings of gold are endless circles. As the pure gold is refined by the  
fire, so may their love  
be refined by the trials of life, each burning away selfish dross and  
leaving only the pure love.  
place the ring on the third finger of her left hand, and make your  
promises."  
  
Giles knelt on one knees before Willow, and took her hand. "Thou hast  
ravished my heart, my  
sister, my bride. Thou hast ravished my heart with one look of thine eyes,  
with one turn of thy  
head. How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride! How much better is thy  
love than wine! A  
garden enclosed is my bride; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed. A  
fountain of gardens a well of  
living waters, and streams from Lebanon. Forever." Giles slipped the ring  
on her hand with the  
last word.  
  
Willow took the ring from Buffy, and knelt before him, holding his hand in  
her little one. "I  
sleep, but my heart wakes; the voice of my beloved knocks. Open for me my  
sister my love, my  
dove; for my head is filled with dew, and my lock with the drops of the  
night. My beloved has  
gone down to his garden to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens and  
to gather lilies.  
Forever." She slid the ring onto his finger.  
  
"Set me as seal upon thy heart," intoned Reverend Jones, placing his hands  
on their heads, "as a  
seal upon thine arm; for love is as strong as death; jealousy is cruel as  
the grave; the coals  
thereof coals of fire, a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench  
love, neither can  
floods drown it. Paul said 'though I speak the languages of men and angels  
and have not love, I  
am a clanging gong or a tinkling cymbal. Though I have the gift of  
prophecy and understand  
everything, though I have enough faith to move mountains, if I have no  
love, I am nothing. And  
though I give away everything to the poor, and even donate my body, if I  
have no love, it profits  
me nothing. Love is patient and kind. It is not envious or proud. It is  
not rude or greedy, is slow  
to anger and believes the best; love rejoices in the truth. Love bears all  
things, believes all  
things, hopes all things and endures all things. Love never fails, but  
prophecies shall fail,  
tongues shall cease and knowledge shall vanish away.' Love as Solomon  
write of it, and as Paul  
says, and you shall be happy. All things have their season. Again the  
wheel has turned and  
brought us to the season of the First Harvest. A time when we think about  
sacrifices and reborn  
hope, a time when we reflect on what we have sown by what we reap, a time  
when we gather our  
memories, and from those lessons that we have learned, we plan for the  
future."  
  
He addressed the friends. "We have come to this place for the joining of  
two souls. May I now  
present Rupert and Willow Giles." The couple rose, and beamed at the  
guests. The tape  
player began again with the Byrds' "Turn turn turn."  
  
The bridal couple left the grove and walked to the front of the small  
pavilion pitched in the open  
field. Buffy and Xander followed them, and stood between them and the  
door. Angel handed  
Buffy the broom he'd kept track of during the ceremony, and Xander took the  
other end. They  
stooped, holding it a foot above the ground.  
  
"Jump beloved, leap adored," Xander said.  
  
"And married be forevermore," Buffy finished.  
  
Willow and Giles clutched hands and took a run at the broom, leaping over  
it and into the tent.  
He carefully tied the doorflap shut.  
  
"Everyone, enjoy the reception, the couple will be with us shortly," Xander  
announced.  
  
The cold buffet was laid out under the spotlights on the ballfield, and  
there was plenty of  
everything, most of it even kosher. Ira and Sheila mingled with the  
others, but Ira pulled his  
wife off to the side, "It wasn't bad, but can you believe they are actually  
schtupping instead of  
having pictures taken?"  
  
"Ira, your mouth! It must be an English thing. Besides, we took plenty  
this afternoon."  
  
"Willow actually looked pretty," Cordelia commented nibbling a sausage  
ball.  
  
"Beautiful," Xander corrected around a mouthful of Chex mix.  
  
"Who wrote the wedding?" Angel asked, a small glass of punch in his hand.  
"Some of it  
sounded very traditional, while most of it was obviously from the Bible."  
He squirmed a bit,  
still uncomfortable with the ceremony. But they were his friends and would  
understand.  
  
"I think they compiled most of it themselves," Buffy said.  
  
"Amazing," commented a university professor drifting by and catching the  
end of the  
conversation. "The fusion of folkloric, pagan and Judeo-Christian elements  
was almost  
seamless. And I thought 'jumping the broom' was more of a Deep Southern  
black saying than  
an actual practice."  
  
"Dr. Gilespie, isn't it?" Buffy shook hands. "Giles mentioned your work on  
Pre-Columbian  
myths of the California region just last week. I'm Buffy Summers, history  
major. My advisor is  
Dr. Franklin."  
  
"Did you read Professor Giles' paper on 'El Boca del Infierno?' A  
brilliant, if skewed version of  
Sunnydale's history. I seem to recall hearing your name before. Did you  
graduate about 99?"  
  
The academic chitchat was cut short by Giles emerging from the pavilion and  
announcing "I am  
come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my  
spice; I have eaten  
my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk; eat O  
friends; drink, yea  
drink abundantly, O beloved."  
  
The DJ spun "Hava Negilah" and the couple came out and began the Horah.  
The Rosenburgs  
were the first to join, but the circle grew to include the entire  
contingent. They circled the  
dancing lawn, laughing as the step-hop confused some of the less  
experienced dancers. The joy  
of Willow and Giles seemed to spill out over the guests, and everyone  
hugged as the song ended.  
  
The DJ started playing romantic songs, as Willow ducked out, under his  
arm. He embraced her  
and they made the rounds of their friends and relatives, thanking each for  
coming. Some  
couples started dancing. Willow went to her father.  
  
"Daddy," she said hopefully.  
  
"Oh, Peaches," he sighed and swept her into his arms. They waltzed away  
across the grass.  
  
"Mrs. Rosenburg?" Giles asked.  
  
"Mr. Giles," she answered, still unable to meet his eyes.  
  
"Madam, rest assured you are forgiven for knocking me senseless with a  
fire-extinguisher." He  
waltzed her gracefully onto the dancing lawn.  
  
"You really do love Willow," she said. "The wedding was beautiful. I'm so  
glad she didn't get  
into one of her witchy moods and get to chanting about the Goddess and all  
that. Ira would  
never have accepted it."  
  
"We did incorporate some Wiccan elements, but as subtly as we could. Not  
offending her father  
means a great deal to Willow."  
  
They danced silently and at the next song, Giles excused himself to the  
punch bowl. He was  
thirsty beyond belief after all the speechifying at the wedding. Willow  
was dancing with Xander  
and Buffy had sat down beside him.  
  
"So, the groom is a little bushed while the bride is going strong."  
  
"Er, yes. I came to her, the God in ascendance, and she the Goddess in  
decline. Now I feel  
rather in decline."  
  
"Giles, don't take me there. Finish your punch and dance with me." He set  
the empty cup down  
and took her in his arms.  
  
"Good of Xander to get leave, wasn't it?"  
  
"He was lucky and had a sympathetic commanding officer."  
  
"Your classes go well, and you'll be graduating next year, Buffy. Have you  
given any thought to  
grad school or a career."  
  
"C'mon, loosen up. Don't do the 'Dad' thing while I'm dancing at your  
wedding. Wigs me  
out."  
  
"Speaking of, I need to introduce you to someone." He pulled her from the  
dancing lawn and  
led her to meet a stern looking elderly man in tweed. "Buffy Summers, my  
father, Charles Giles.  
Father, this is my Slayer."  
  
The older Giles looked the little blonde over. "She's lived to a ripe old  
age, Rupert. You turned  
out to be better suited for this than you thought. No regrets about not  
being a grocer?"  
  
"Father, I was 12."  
  
"Your wife is very young, son. Be careful, she's probably fragile too."  
  
"Father, she starts Watcher's training next week." The elder Giles smiled  
approvingly as his son  
went in search of his in-laws to introduce them.  
  
"Never was assigned a slayer of my own, but I do follow the reports, Miss  
Summers.  
Congratulations. And be careful. Slayers die. It's your role in life to  
die defending the rest of  
us from the forces of evil. But don't do it too soon. You mean a lot to  
Rupert." He turned away  
to greet the Rosenburgs.  
  
Buffy grabbed Angel and dragged him to the lawn. Only then did she notice  
the music was a  
tango. "Buffy?" he asked.  
  
"Badness. Mr. Giles is a Watcher too, and laid it on the line about me  
dying in the service of  
humanity and all that. I need to dance and forget." They tangoed gently,  
trying to avoid  
eroticism. They small talked about LA and college and all the trivia of  
their lives, until Buffy's  
color returned and she relaxed.  
  
"My turn," Cordelia cut in at the beginning of the next song.  
  
At length, the bridal couple left in Giles' ancient Citreon. Honeymoon  
plans had been played  
very close to the vest, and no one knew where the trip would take them.  
Giles had left a hotel  
address for Buffy at his apartment, along with other instructions.  
  
Slowly, the friends and family began dispersing. The Slayerettes began  
cleaning up the small  
amount of remaining food and drink. They bundled it into Xander's car and  
headed back to the  
Summers' house.  
  
"Good wedding," he said , driving carefully back to the house. The wards  
at the park would  
dissapate with dawn, but the streets were still unprotected.  
  
"Very good," agreed Angel.  
  
"Oz still on tour?" Cordelia asked.  
  
"'Delia," Angel growled.  
  
"Your lack of tact is amazing as always. He's in Moorehead, Minnesota, on  
tour. He wanted to  
make the wedding, but the band lives gig to gig," Xander answered. "I  
caught their show when  
they came through Kentucky. They're better than they were." They unloaded  
at Buffy's house,  
putting food away, and making sleeping arrangements. Joyce was out of town  
for the summer  
on a three continent buying trip for the gallery. It was three AM.  
  
"So, my sister, my bride, was your wedding day all you hoped for?"  
  
"Yes, my love. It could only be more perfect in one way." She kissed him.  
  
"And how is that, my darling?"  
  
"Awake, O north wind and come wind of the south. Blow upon my garden that  
the spices of it  
may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden and eat his pleasant  
fruits," she quoted.  
  
"Again? You redheads are insatiable witches. But it is your wedding day  
and I shall persevere."  
  
"I love you, Rupert," she sighed, as he lifted the crown from her head and  
began loosening the  
laces of her dress.  
  
"And I you, my Willow, my tree planted by the water." The kisses turned  
lingering. "Always  
and forever."  
  
The light of the small motel room glinted on the wedding ring on her hand.  
"Forever," she  
sighed.  
  
[Image] Slayerettes danced at the wedding, and got brogans of pudding,  
breeches of glass, a slice of pie for telling a lie, and then came  
slithering home. [1] [Image]  



End file.
